


One More Time, With Feeling

by onelongwinter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onelongwinter/pseuds/onelongwinter
Summary: He sits her on his lap, his hands over hers. Together, they pull the tool across the wood, and she can’t hide her excitement as the shavings curl up and drop to the floor. He isn’t home often, she knows. He’s so busy, and she’s proud of him. But still, she cherishes these little moments. They don’t have a lot of time, but what they have is enough.Maybe when they meet again, they can start over.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Gilbert Pronislav
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	One More Time, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> This is a short drabble for Kay! I love writing Annette, she's the best.

Her father’s hands are scarred from years of fighting, but she loves them just the same. The same hands that can wield axes and lances with such ferocity are still gentle as he ruffles her hair. A soft touch, she notes, as he carefully carves wood into little creatures for her. 

She’s up on her tiptoes, peering down over his shoulder as he works. He twists it this way and that, shaving off a bit here, and a bit there, until there’s a rabbit, or a deer, or maybe even a majestic griffon. She lines them up on her shelves, a little family to play with while he’s away. 

There’s a mother, and a father, a daughter, a princess, three knights, a bishop, a mage, a maid, a goat, sheep, cat, dog, three horses, a doe, a stag, a fawn, two rabbits, a wyvern, a unicorn, griffon, and she counts them all every night before she goes to sleep. She wishes them good night, tired from a day of pretend. 

“What are you making today?” She asks, resting her chin on his shoulder, and he laughs, hands still working. 

“A mighty dragon, to protect the princess from harm,” he tells her. She watches as he chips away at the tail. He’s fast, and steady, and so sure of himself, in a way Annette will never be. “Do you want to try?”

He sits her on his lap, his hands over hers. Together, they pull the tool across the wood, and she can’t hide her excitement as the shavings curl up and drop to the floor. He isn’t home often, she knows. He’s so busy, and she’s proud of him. But still, she cherishes these little moments. They don’t have a lot of time, but what they have is enough. 

“Look at that, you’re a natural,” he says, and she laughs. He guides her hands along again, and again, and the little figure starts to take shape, a proud, serpentine head emerging from the block of wood. “All right, on your own this time.”

Carefully, she tries again. The tool skitters and catches, jolting across the grain, leaving a deep scar in the wood and blood bursts from her palm. 

“Annette!” He grabs her hand, tool and dragon falling to the ground with a clatter. 

“I’m okay,” she says. “I’m okay! We can still carve!”

Her father doesn’t believe her, guilt etched into his face as if he himself were made of wood. 

“That’s enough for today,” he says. “Let’s get a healer.”

“But the dragon!”

“He can wait,” he says. “We’ll finish him another day.

Another day doesn’t come. She wakes up one morning and the world is burning. 

The king is dead, and her father is gone. Her hand still hurts and her mother won't stop crying and the dragon sits on the shelf, alone and unfinished. 

* * *

Her room at Garreg Mach hasn’t changed. It’s not surprising, no one has been here since they fled, grabbing the last of their possessions. She supposes there was nothing left in the student dorms to pillage. 

She lines them up, the little figures she’s been carrying with her all this time. A mother, a father, a daughter. A princess, and her three knights. A bishop, a mage, a maid, and a whole flock of farm animals. A wyvern, a griffon, a unicorn. 

“You’ve grown so big,” a voice says from the doorway. 

Her father hasn’t grown bigger, but he has grown older. There’s more gray in his hair, more lines on his face. 

“I’m still short, though,” she says, arranging them on the shelf. 

“You kept them, all this time,” he says. 

“I couldn’t throw them away. They reminded me of you,” she whispers. 

“Annette…” he says, but he stops. Maybe she’s afraid, she thinks. He never enters her room, but he doesn’t leave. Still, his presence is enough. She pulls the dragon from her bag, and sets him down. He stands there in all his glory, towering over the other figures. It’s not her best work. 

“I finished him,” she says. She pulls out more, rougher ones made by clumsy hands, and ones that are more sure of themselves. She lines up five years without him across the shelf. 

“You did a fine job of it,” he says, and she can’t help it, the way her heart leaps in her chest.. It’s what she’s been working for, all these years. 

“Thank you,” she says. “We should carve together, next time.”

What she doesn’t say is:  _ I had to learn how on my own.  _ _ I had to figure out everything, all on my own.  _

“I’d like that,” he says, at last, and it’s enough. 


End file.
